


The Valet

by tgfoy



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Domestic Disputes, Gen, Injury, Poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgfoy/pseuds/tgfoy
Summary: Life had not always been good for John Bates after he had left the military hospital, soon after the end of the African War. Could a promise made at the bedside over ten years ago change his life for the better.
Kudos: 2





	The Valet

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on situations and characters created by Julian Fellowes, co-produced by Carnival Films and Masterpiece. I make nothing from this story and make no claims of any kind on the property of any rights holders, I was simply inspired by what they made to write the story presented below, my only reward being the response of any who may read it and as a result perhaps favourite this work or even write a review.

The Valet.  
by Tgfoy

He had, at last, been given his life back, at least he had been given a chance at a new one, a chance he was more than grateful for. It had been a long hard road, but he was soon to enjoy what he was about to embark on, of that he was sure. It was his old officer who was giving him this opportunity, his Lordship knew of his wound of course, they had been together when he had received it. He was fortunate the Earl remembered him so fondly, as to offer him the post on the strength of a letter asking if he had known of anything suitable. Within a week of its receipt by the man, which had been delayed, he had been appointed, and a week later he was on his way to begin. He had almost forgotten such people had still existed, it was such a contrast to what he had been required to get used to since he had been dismissed from the Army.

A lot had happened in the years since he had acted as Batman to his lordship, even he found it hard to believe more than a decade had passed since then. He had stayed in the army after the war in Africa, married, been imprisoned for a crime he had not committed, been discharged, then survived day to day since. He had not had a dull few years, that was certain. His wife, who he had believed to be a beautiful, kind-hearted woman at one time, had turned out to be bitter and conniving. She had been the thief, that he had confessed to being. His intention had been to protect her, so he had served two years in the military prison before being dishonourably discharged on completion of that term. He had returned to London, leaving his wife and former life behind, he stayed at his mother’s who welcomed him. He had not seen his wife often since his release, each time he had, it had been an unpleasant experience, but she had not been seen for a few years now, and he no longer cared. 

Since his discharge he had worked in bars, repair shops, collecting rubbish or nightsoil, sweeping streets, on the docks, anywhere that would give him a day's work. Helping to support his mother who owned the house they lived in, never knowing if he would have work the next day or not. He queued each morning to see if there was work for him that day, the earlier he joined the line of men, the better the chance he had before the available jobs on the list ran out. Such was the lot of a man, dishonourably discharged at the end of a career in the Army. He could not get more than casual employment, few would employ him on any other basis

It was on one of the days when he had been employed to sweep the streets, that he saw his Lordship, getting out of a car and entering a house, he realised it was Grantham house, the London residence of his old officer from the war. It had been more than ten years since the end of that time in his life, the end of the war. A little longer since that day in the hospital, years before he had taken the blame for the crime of his wife. Yet, despite the passage of time since he had last seen him, he still recognised the man when he saw him pass from the Taxi to the front door. He remembered what Lord Grantham had said that day, a week after the war had ended, three weeks after he had received his injury. The Earl was a few hours from joining a ship to return to his Family seat in Yorkshire, he would be discharged once he reached England and the regimental headquarters. Before he left he had arranged to be able to visit Bates and award him the medals he had earned during the campaign. 

“I am most grateful to you for everything, Bates. You have served me in an exemplary manner and have been a marvellous companion.” Lord Grantham had said at the bedside in the military hospital, once he had awarded the medals to him.“It has been a real honour to serve with you these few years. If you ever need help Bates, then come to me, do not hesitate, just write to me at Downton or at the London house, and I shall do whatever is in my power to assist you.” 

“I will my Lord, thank you. Though with luck, I doubt I shall need to.” He had replied at the time.

He had not seen his Lordship since then, though they had parted on friendly terms. 

He had signed on to remain in the army, only a few weeks before being wounded and despite the injury would not be discharged from service for another couple of years at least, as a result.

The Army, being what it was, decided that they would make use of him despite the injury leaving him lame and unfit for active service. Once he had been discharged from Hospital, he had been signed off active service, so was sent to be a steward in the officers mess at the barracks. He had progressed swiftly, serving at various barracks around the country, wherever his regiment was posted, rising to become chief steward before he had met Vera, who he had married. It was then that her true nature began to show, though he did not see it at the time. His lack of vision ensured that his life changed for the worse, as a result. 

She had been working as a waitress in the mess, a job she continued after their marriage, which meant they were rarely apart, and her character flaws began to show. Even so, he never suspected how far or how deep they were. To him they were simply foibles, nothing more. As far as he was concerned they were signs of a lack of confidence, she seemed to rely on him so much. His mother had seen through her, she had not criticised Vera, but had spoken with him asking if he was certain. A question that should have raised alarm bells with him, when asked by his mother, but he wouldn't listen to her at the time, thought it was just his mother's jealousy. Vera had agreed, at the time. In retrospect, he should have listened, instead he learnt the lesson in one of the hardest ways he could have done.

After his marriage, his duties in the mess had continued as before, his wife alongside him. For quite a while, at least, things were as they had always been, until he noticed that petty pilfering was on the rise. It had always been something of a problem, but was usually the officers forgetting to return things or even sneaking items of food when the staff had their backs turned. It had never been anything of great value, a nuisance or inconvenience at worst, but then more started disappearing. Things he could not simply put down as the officers forgetfulness, Linen needed replacing more often than it should, for example, food that had been put in the store disappeared, implicating the mess staff. He had spoken to Vera about it, trying to get her to keep an eye on the staff, but the number of thefts remained high, with more than just food disappearing inexplicably. Soon the odd silver teaspoon went, other cutlery on occasion. Then a couple of cruet sets went, it was too regular, and the value of the items was growing. Then, just two years after they had married, the regimental silver was stolen. 

The entire base had been searched as a matter of urgency, within an hour of the discovery of the theft. Bates was horrified when, as the search neared their courtesy house, Vera showed him the bag containing the silver, she had been the thief all along, though he did not know that in that moment. Admitting she had taken them, claiming it had been a momentary aberration, she begged him for help. He took the blame, was arrested, put on trial in a military court, during which he said nothing in his defence. The three officers who formed the court, along with both prosecutor and defender all suspected he was covering for his wife, but his silence left them no choice. He was sent to prison to be discharged dishonourably on release. His exemplary career in the army ended in apparent ignominy. 

He knew that he had left the members of the bench with little choice, he could see that the officers who had tried him were highly doubtful as to his guilt, but he could not let delicate, flawed, Vera be sent to prison. Far better that he took the blame, that he was sent down, protecting her and her honour. He knew that the Court Martial had been as lenient as it could in sentencing him, but he knew they would also now lose the house they had lived in and made their home. His biggest regret, that he had rendered her homeless. 

Despite her own reservations about his wife, his mother took Vera into her own home, after which he learnt the full extent of his wife's manipulative nature. On her first visit to him in the military prison, his wife began to show her true nature. She had gloated at his status, cheerfully pointing out just how much of a fool he was for taking the blame for her crime. Boasting that she had been the one stealing from the mess, having planned it before she had agreed to marry him. That he had been ruined was of no consequence to her, once he was broke, she would move on to find other fools to keep her, and he would still be tied to her by marriage, unable to be free of her, who she could fall back on if the need arose. 

The guard on duty heard her confession and passed it onto his colleagues, but there was nothing they could do about it, it was too late for anything to be done. There was no actual evidence to use, to give a reason to appeal his conviction. Despite that, he found his treatment in the glass house was not quite as bad as it could have been from then on, and he was quite surprised to hear that one of the guards had even begun to keep an eye on his mother as well. It was through that guard, that he received news from his mother and was kept apprised of his Wife's behaviour between her visits. They could not stop those, she always arrived as if she was a put upon. Poor wife of a prisoner, until they were facing each other across the table, at which he was subjected to her continued sneering and gloating. According to Vera she was supposedly manipulating his mother, gaining her and his property steadily, boasting that he would have nothing to come out to. and he could do nothing to stop her. If he had not known the truth, then it would have worried him beyond endurance, and she knew that. As it was, unknowingly, all she was doing was proving what she was to him.

On her last visit, two months before his release, she told him her plans. She was taking everything he owned, as well as anything of his mothers she could, and leaving. Once again she gloated that he could do nothing about it as she left the room. Thanks to the guard on duty, his mother was forewarned and ensured her property was safe. Though she could do nothing about saving much of his, she managed to keep all his clothes and medals out of Vera's reach. When he was released he returned to his mothers house, penniless with nothing, but the few things the Guard and his mother had managed to save. 

Being abandoned by his wife, though not completely rid of her, was both a blessing and a curse. Vera had left a week after her last visit to the prison, gleefully boasting of the life she would be leading at his expense, he hoped he would never see her again. She had, however, managed to convince a number of the women who lived in the area around his mothers, that she was the poor wife of a thief, fleeing him and his manipulative mother. Those who believed her had treated him with complete disdain, dismissing any rumour of the truth as malicious gossip and lies. Luckily most who knew them were supportive, but many who lived around them simply minded their own business, so her influence had been limited.

Life had not been good since his release and discharge, he had gone from being a well respected man, running an officers mess, to several years of scraping a living as a casual worker. Reporting to the yard office each morning in the hope there was sufficient work to mean he would be employed that day. He drank heavily in the first couple of years after his release, every spare coin he had, went on beer. One day he had a job painting the girders of a bridge, he found himself drinking the thinners intended to water down the paint, it was then he realised the state he was in. That was the last alcohol to pass his lips from that day to this. He had been ill for days afterwards, but when he returned to the yard it was with a new resolve, never to sink so low again. 

That had been his life since he had left prison, he and his mother getting by on what he earned. His mothers house being her own, was a bonus in these times. His father had bought it, and the mortgage was long since cleared, before his death, so they simply needed sufficient to pay the bills and eat. The casual work he could get was mostly unfulfilling, he could not often use the skills he had learnt in his time in the army. It was irregular, but at least it was work and it kept them out of the poor house. He craved more for both himself and his mother, a steady, reliable income at least, but because of his past that was unlikely, and it would only take a week or two without work to put them in real difficulty. They may be luckier than most, but they were still on a knife-edge of survival.

He heard little from Vera, in those years, he heard tales of her occasionally. She turned up in fine clothes to gloat a few times, she was once so desperate that she came begging for a place to stay. He had been at work at the time, and his mother had called a neighbour to help remove her from the house within an hour of her arrival, he only heard of it several weeks later. A year after that, his wife returned once more to gloat having wormed her way up again. It was only on these occasions that he gave her much thought, and then it was only to wonder that she had yet to be caught stealing or in some other manipulation, otherwise she was the last thing on his mind. Since she had left he had, had no romantic entanglement, he remained honourable in that regard. From the tales he had heard, he believed Vera had not had any such qualms, but he had no proof, and he saw little point in suing for divorce unless he wanted to remarry, which he could not see happening. He knew his wife would only return to him if it was to her advantage, he was unsure what he would do if she did, their estrangement saddened him greatly, as did her behaviour. He had last seen her some eighteen months before the day he had found himself sweeping the street outside Grantham house. She was rarely mentioned by either his mother or him any more, and the gossip about her had died away in the neighbourhood.

The night before that day, they had received a visit from a young man, the now grown son of a neighbour. He had joined the Army, and had come to gain advice before he left the following morning, to report to his new barracks. Bates had shared stories and given the lad advice, they had both wished the lad well before he left. The evening had raised memories of his time in the second Boer War with Lord Grantham, he found himself wondering how the man was doing. Certainly they saw him mentioned occasionally in the paper, but he had not seen the Earl since that day in the hospital, before he had returned to England.

The freshness of those recollections, awoken by the young man who was on his way to join a peacetime army, seemed more than coincidental as he swept the street outside his officers London house. The fates seemed to be telling him something, this was confirmed as a car drew up to the front door, and he saw his old officer get out of it and walk to the door. 

He was glad to see his Lordship appeared little changed, older certainly, but not so much as to be unrecognisable, not by a long shot. In fact John smiled as he wondered if it really could be so long, despite knowing the length of time had indeed passed. Seeing the man he had been Batman to over a decade before, had finally jogged his memory, to recall the words spoken on that last encounter. He wondered if the Earl would remember it, as well. He knew he could not approach him, not today, not in this circumstance. Although he had no doubt that if the Earl did recognise him, he would speak with him, of that he had no doubt. It would not be proper to approach him in the street, as if they were social equals, though. That would never do, such a breach of protocol would be an unforgivable insult to them both, but especially to his Lordship. If the Earl were to recognise and approach him then that would, of course, be a completely different matter, but quite unlikely in the circumstances. John would take his old officer at his word, he would write to him.

That night he spoke with his mother about his plan, she agreed it was a good one, but cautioned that he may not be remembered. He wrote the letter, explaining his need for steady employment, though not the reasons why, nor the whole story of what had happened to him since their parting. He gave his mothers address for any reply, though he wrote it not really expecting a reply, though hoping one would arrive. He would not have been surprised if Lord Grantham might be glad to hear from him, but would not give the request a second thought. They may have been comrades in arms back in the war, earned each others trust as master and servant, but time had passed, there lives were completely different now. Why on earth would his Lordships thoughts ever fall onto his, lame, wartime manservant. Even if they did, would he want to take him on, or help a man who had fallen so far in life. Despite everything, he could not bring himself to tell the full story, he was too much of a gentleman to do that to his wife, no matter what she had done to him. He was a man of honour, he could not do that to any woman. He could not mention it to his Lordship, or anyone, the shame was too much.

The next morning, he took the letter with him, in his inside pocket, to the yard as he queued for a job, he knew there were only street sweeping jobs at the moment, so he would deliver it by hand to Grantham House. If he did not get the job or any work that day, he would call at a post office and post it. It was worth a try, there could be positions available on the estate or in the household, the worst that could happen would be no response after all, and that would leave him where he was, no better or worse. Luckily, that day he again got the job of sweeping the streets near Grantham house, so he delivered the letter to the box at the front door, unnoticed as he passed with his brush, then carried on with his work cleaning the road, doubting he would hear any more. Nor did he, at least not for quite a while.

He was depressed, he had not got any work for several days, so was sat in his mothers kitchen, next to the range while she busied herself with housework. It had been several weeks since he had delivered the letter, he had given up hope of receiving a reply. His mother was sweeping down the stairs with a dustpan and brush, when he heard a knock at the front door. 

“I'll get it John.” His mother called. “I'm in the hall, next to it in any case.”

He heard the door open, and a male voice speak, though he couldn't quite make out the words. He heard his mother speak, then the door close, before he heard the door to his mothers Parlour brush over the floor. A moment later she came into the Kitchen. 

“John, you have a visitor, he is waiting in the Parlour for you.” She seemed a little flustered, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her flustered like this.

He stood. “ Who is it?” He asked, worried.

His mother looked at him, getting the best China out of the cupboard, followed by a fruit cake. “Said he had come in response to your letter, said you were in the war together, Lord Grantham was who he said he was, he certainly looks like he is important.” She told him, a twinkle of happiness in her eye.

He was momentarily taken aback. “Lord Grantham?” He asked.

“Yes John, didn't you say you were with a Lord Grantham in the war? You told me you were going to write to him and I know you did, my memory isn't that bad. Well you go and see what he wants with you, while I make the tea. Goodness, never had a Lord here before, that will get the neighbours talking. Go on John, don't keep him waiting.”

He was nonplussed, the letter he had written must have been what had brought his Lordship, though a visit was not the response he had expected, especially so long after he had delivered it. He had given up any hope of a response some time ago, so this was very unexpected. Standing, he brushed himself down, no matter the situation he took as much pride in his appearance as possible, though he was not anywhere near as smart this day as he had been in the Army. Glad he had shaved and had changed out of his working clothes, he began to think of what he would say and wondering about what he could expect. 

It took only a moment to reach the door to his Mothers Parlour, he paused outside, glancing into the hall mirror to ensure his hair was in place he quickly gathered his thoughts, before opening the door and walking in. 

The room was comfortable, but quite dated in its decoration, which was still very Victorian, which his mother found comforting. Though the room was kept strictly for special occasions, such as Christmas, or visitors like the vicar, it was cleaned and polished on a daily basis, just in case. It was a little dark for his own taste, but this was his mothers house, not his own so her choice. As he entered, the man waiting turned from looking at the portrait of his father on the mantle piece, to look at who had entered. Recognising the man, a genuine smile spread across the Visitors face, and he strode over to greet him.

“Bates, my dear chap, it is so good to see you.” Lord Grantham took his hand and shook it warmly, genuinely pleased to see his old comrade.

“You as well my Lord. Please, will you take a seat, my Mother will be here shortly with some tea in her best China.” Bates replied.

Lord Grantham took a seat. “Oh I didn't mean for her to go to all that trouble, I am sure her usual cups would have been more than sufficient.”

Bates smiled. “Don't worry my Lord, she enjoys a chance to use it, your visit is just a good excuse.”

“Ah, I see.” Robert grinned. “In that case I am flattered.”

The two men made polite small talk until the tea arrived, then Mrs. Bates left the two men to it.

“Well Bates, first I should apologise, I am sorry it has taken so long to respond to your letter. I'm afraid it seems it was delivered to Grantham house on the day after I left to return to Downton, and it was not forwarded to the Abbey immediately as it should have been. However, it did reach me last week and knowing I was coming to London again, I decided I would call on you rather than write.”

“Thank you my Lord, that was most kind of you.” He replied.

“Yes, well, Bates, I have to say, your letter concerned me. That said I am pleased you wrote, I meant what I said on my discharge, it goes without saying that I will help where I can of course. In fact, I believe I have an answer for your employment problem, if you will accept. The delay in the arrival of your letter proved very fortuitous in fact, it was a very timely as it turns out. However, I must ask you, if you were to accept my offer it will mean you would move to Yorkshire, a room in Downton Abbey not a house, how would your mother feel about that? Would she be able to cope here without you here?”

Bates smiled. “I would send part of my wages to help her still, and she has friends who will gladly help her if needed. My Mother, though is very independent, while she has grown used to my being here, I believe she would cope very well here on her own, as I am certain she would tell you if you asked her and I could visit occasionally.”

Lord Grantham nodded. “Yes the Ladies of that generation are quite independent and strong-minded in my experience.” He smiled. “I can certainly see where you get several of your best traits from, without a shadow of doubt. I have to admit, I have missed your company, since we parted. Which brings me back to your letter, and its fortunate delay. You see it arrived in my hand an hour after my Valet unexpectedly left us. I have not even advertised for a replacement, though Carson, my Butler, finds it odd that I haven't”.

“Really sir.”

“Yes, most fortuitous really, now if you are agreeable I would like you to replace him.”

“Are you certain my Lord, you may recall that my injury is permanent.”

“I do, Bates, and so long as you believe you can cope with the stairs, there are a large number, especially between the servants hall and their rooms I'm afraid, then I see no problem. Now will you come to Yorkshire, I need a man I can rely on, which I know I can you.”

“In, which case my Lord, I am most grateful and happily accept. It will be an honour to serve you once more.” Bates replied.

“Not at all my dear chap, it will be a pleasure to have you with me again, give me a week or two to sort it out with Carson, then I shall send for you. I shall of course send your ticket, I also need you to visit my Tailor who will make a couple of suitable valet suits with everything for you, that is usual Bates I assure you. I am sure you will find life in Yorkshire quite different to here, old chap.”

They asked his Mother to join them and explained why the Earl had visited, her reaction reassured them both that their assessment of her character had been correct. She had been overjoyed for her son and although she dismissed Lord Granthams' concerns at first, she recognised them as genuine and was pleased to assure him that she would be fine and if she required help that she could not find here, she would send word as his Lordship requested. 

Two weeks later, Bates boarded a late train from Kings Cross station, intending to stay overnight in York before catching the first train the next morning to Downton. His plan worked, he had travelled North, his thoughts dwelling on his past, and the life he was leaving behind. The next morning, after an early breakfast in the pub near the station, he had stayed in, he was watching the sun rise from the window of the local train from York as they left the main line a few minutes North of the city. His thoughts now on the future, looking forward to his new life, the life he was about to begin.


End file.
